


Fountain

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 24/7 angst, ALL OF IT, All the time, Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mars, Murder, Roses, Sex, halsey drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: A collection of (4) drabbles/snippets inspired by Halsey songs, for the Tumblr Halsey Drabble Fest.Featuring star crossed lovers, monsters and heroes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoodIdeaAtTheTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodIdeaAtTheTime/gifts), [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts), [Amberly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/gifts).



A/N: For the Halsey Drabble/Snippet Challenge on Tumblr, this is day 1 of hopefully 4 of fics that are inspired by Halsey songs.

 

A/N2: Always thanks to Ro for beta-reading and supporting me.

 

A/N3: And a super thanks to ChronicWhimsy, Kangofu-CB, Amberlyinviolet and Maevemauvaise for being who you are.

 

A/N4: Inspired by ‘Coming Down’ from the Badlands album. Lyrics at the end of the fic.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

 

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Fool _

 

Leather whispering through buckle.

Canvas sliding against canvas.

Rubber soles thudding on linoleum.

The sounds are as much a ritual as the actions themselves.

They watch each other, silent, wary and eager, cautious and desperate.

Half-naked, they stand on either side of the dresser and lay out their weapons.

Service revolver, knife, other knife, illegal gun from Trowa, each set down carefully and precisely.

Knife, knife, scalpel, razor wire, knife, illegal gun from Duo, not quite tossed down but very nearly, collected into a haphazard pile.

Even unarmed, there is still tension between them, still the knowledge that they are on opposite sides of things, with no ability to resolve the conflict that separates them.

The first touch is tentative, Duo testing Trowa’s reception, his resolve.

He slides his hand over Trowa’s bare chest and rests his palm over the scar just above Trowa’s right clavicle. He watches Trowa swallow, watches his throat work and his face grow impenetrable.

Trowa lifts his hand to cover Duo’s, slides his hand along Duo’s wrist, his forearm, and then pulls him close.

There is nothing tentative about the kiss, about their lips fusing together, about the desire that has them dancing to this tune over and over again.

The ritual continues, hands exploring flesh for new scars, for tattoos and piercings and the changes wrought by time and space and circumstance.

A haircut. A bandaged finger. A star map in scant black detail. A pale whorl of weeping, melted flesh.

The inventory is never completed. After a certain point, neither has the patience.

The first time is never on the bed - too soft, too  _ real _ when everything else is so uncertain.

The floor or braced against the wall, clutching hard muscle and biting down to keep from crying out, eyes squeezed tight and climax sudden and overwhelming.

Later, when they aren’t quite sated but when they can at least remember what it feels like to touch another person, they climb into the bed.

Trowa curls against Duo, head pillowed on his chest, hands tangled together.

It feels wrong to speak. Duo has tried, before, but he never says the right thing and Trowa never seems able to find the words to start.

Pleasure isn’t something either ever associated with sex, not until the first time, when violence softened, when intimacy meant something that wasn’t exactly trust but wasn’t entirely desperation.

Duo still hasn’t been with anyone else. Trowa has buried himself in so many others that he forgets why, but it is never the same as when he is with Duo.

In the morning, they rise from the bed, neither washing, neither admitting that that too is part of the ritual, albeit one that takes place later, alone.

They dress in silence, the last touch they share that of Duo straightening Trowa’s collar with a smirk and Trowa  lifting his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingers.

And then they part, two assassins walking into the daylight, neither wanting to look back, neither able to look forward.

  
  


\---

Lyrics:

 

"Coming Down"

 

I found God

I found him in a lover

When his hair falls in his face

And his hands so cold they shake

 

I found the Devil

I found him in a lover

And his lips like tangerines

And his color coded speak

 

Now we're lost somewhere in outer space

In a hotel room where demons play

They run around beneath our feet

We roll around beneath these sheets

 

I've got a lover

A love like religion

I'm such a fool for sacrifice

It's coming down, down, coming down

It's coming down, down, coming down

 

I've got a lover

And I'm unforgiven

I'm such a fool to pay this price

It's coming down, down, coming down

It's coming down, down, coming down

 

I found a martyr

He told me that I'd never

With his educated eyes

And his head between my thighs

 

I found the savior

I don't think he remembers

'Cause he's off to pay his crimes

And he's got no time for mine

 

Now we're lost somewhere in outer space

In a hotel room where demons play

They run around beneath our feet

We roll around beneath these sheets

 

I've got a lover

A love like religion

I'm such a fool for sacrifice

It's coming down, down, coming down

It's coming down, down, coming down

 

I've got a lover

And I'm unforgiven

I'm such a fool to pay this price

It's coming down, down, coming down

It's coming down, down, coming down

 

Every single night pray the sun'll rise

Every single time make a compromise

Every single night pray the sun'll rise, but

 

It's coming down, down, coming down

He's coming down, down, coming down

 

I've got a lover

A love like religion

I'm such a fool for sacrifice

It's coming down, down, coming down

It's coming down, down, coming down

 

I've got a lover

And I'm unforgiven

I'm such a fool to pay this price

It's coming down, down, coming down

It's coming down, down, coming down

 

Every single night pray the sun'll rise

Every single time make a compromise

Every single night pray the sun'll rise, but

 

It's coming down, down, coming down

He's coming down, down, coming down

 

It's coming down, down, coming down

He's coming down, down, coming down

 

It's coming down, down, coming down

He's coming down, down, coming down

  
  



	2. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different tale, from a different time and place (than chapter 1).

A/N: For the Halsey Drabble/Snippet Challenge on Tumblr, this is day 2 of hopefully 4 of fics that are inspired by Halsey songs.

 

A/N2: Always thanks to Ro for beta-reading and supporting me.

 

A/N3: And a super thanks to ChronicWhimsy, Kangofu-CB, Amberlyinviolet and Maevemauvaise for being who you are.

 

A/N4: Inspired by ‘Control’ from the Badlands album. Lyrics at the end of the fic.

 

Warnings: angst

 

_ Monster _

 

It wasn’t a meeting between equals.

 

It was hardly a  _ meeting  _ at all.

 

Une had flat-out rejected sending Heero to meet him. The two were, even years after the wars and after the changes ‘peace’ had wrought, too different and still enemies. 

 

Duo was rejected as well. Sally pointed out that there was no telling whether or not Duo would antagonize the man or empathize with him - and no wanted wanted  _ two _ former Gundam pilots turned serial killers on the loose.

 

Wufei took himself out of consideration. He was too close to the victims. He knew too much and, frankly, he wasn’t willing to go down whatever dark spiral was necessary to unravel the seeming madness.

 

Quatre was the obvious choice - out of all of them, he had the least personal attachment to him, and the greatest likelihood of finding out just what had happened and  _ why _ . 

 

But Quatre Winner had to run one of the largest and most profitable companies in the Earthsphere. He couldn’t take nine months to go to Mars.

 

And so Trowa was the one that Une sent to Mars to find out just what the hell had happened that had led to Zechs Merquise murdering twenty-one colonists and three Preventers agents.

 

He had had to grab a ride on a supply shuttle that doubled as a passenger freighter. Nine months of dodging children and bright-eyed immigrants who dreamed of life on Mars had not left Trowa in a particularly open state of mind. That his primary reading material outside of the shuttle’s bizarre collection of pre-colonial romance novels was the fully, unredacted file on Zechs Merquise certainly didn’t help matters.

 

By the time he finally got to Mars, Trowa knew far too much about corsets, their removal, and the almost equally tawdry affairs of Zechs Merquise.

 

He was being held in what Noin had turned into the brig, the proto-greenhouse in the earlier Hab module that had been left empty and used for storage once the newer Hab modules were installed.

 

He was manacled, wrists secured with zip ties that had been clipped short and melted down to further minimize the chance of escape. It was the only restraint, and very nearly the only clothing he wore. 

 

Trowa wasn’t sure if the decision to keep Zechs in only briefs had been made for expediency’s sake or because he had done something to merit the removal of his outer layers.

 

Either way, the image of Zechs Merquise, nearly naked and dusted with a fine layer of reddish-brown from the dirt-packed floor under his feet, wasn’t something Trowa had pictured. At least, not within the context of reading his files. 

 

If anything, Trowa could quite easily picture Zechs supplanting the cover art for the romance novel set on an Australian ranch featuring a reformed criminal and an English aristocrat.

 

Ironic.

 

Considering that Zechs was the aristocrat and Trowa the reformed criminal. 

 

Noin wouldn’t give him a chair. Nor would she allow him a datapad or notebook. The cameras would record everything, she assured him, for him to review later.

 

Her eyes had been haunted as she looked through the viewport at the man trapped beyond. 

 

Trowa walked into the greenhouse and waited for the door to hiss close behind him before he moved towards the center of the room, to where Zechs lounged on the dirt, propped up on one elbow and as casual and carefree as if he were on a beach in the Mediterranean.

 

“I thought they might send Maxwell.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“You  _ hoped _ they would.”

 

Zechs looked amused, his full lips curving upwards, and he shrugged carelessly.

 

“Instead, they sent  _ you _ . How tiresome.”

 

Not as tiresome as nine months on a shuttle, sleeping in a bunk just one yard away from a complete stranger who, thankfully, remained a complete stranger even after sharing close quarters for so long.

 

“You murdered twenty-four people.”

 

Zechs lifted both eyebrows in polite surprise.

 

“Did I? Not twenty-five?”

 

Trowa had become very intimate with the files, with the  _ photographs _ of Zechs’s victims. All twenty-four of them.

 

Noin had not alerted him to any discrepancies.

 

Zechs chuckled, and Trowa clenched his jaw against the brittle sound. 

 

“ _ You _ might be able to keep me entertained after all.”

 

The door whooshed open and Noin, flanked by two colonial protection force agents, stood on the other side.

 

“Agent Barton, clear the room immediately.”

 

The twenty-fifth corpse had been found.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\---

Lyrics for “Control”

 

  
They send me away to find them a fortune   
A chest filled with diamonds and gold   
The house was awake, the shadows and monsters   
The hallways, they echoed and groaned   
  
I sat alone, in bed till the morning   
I'm crying, "They're coming for me"   
And I tried to hold these secrets inside me   
My mind's like a deadly disease   
  
I'm bigger than my body   
I'm colder than this home   
I'm meaner than my demons   
I'm bigger than these bones   
  
And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"   
I can't help this awful energy   
God damn right, you should be scared of me   
Who is in control?   
  
I paced around for hours on empty   
I jumped at the slightest of sounds   
And I couldn't stand the person inside me   
I turned all the mirrors around   
  
I'm bigger than my body   
I'm colder than this home   
I'm meaner than my demons   
I'm bigger than these bones   
  
And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"   
I can't help this awful energy   
God damn right, you should be scared of me   
Who is in control?   
  
I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head   
They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead   
And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head   
They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead   
  
I'm bigger than my body   
I'm colder than this home   
I'm meaner than my demons   
I'm bigger than these bones   
  
And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"   
I can't help this awful energy   
God damn right, you should be scared of me   
Who is in control?   
  
And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"   
I can't help this awful energy   
God damn right, you should be scared of me   
Who is in control?   
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For the Halsey Drabble/Snippet Challenge on Tumblr, this is day 3 of hopefully 4 of fics that are inspired by Halsey songs.

 

A/N2: Always thanks to Ro for beta-reading and supporting me.

 

A/N3: And a super thanks to ChronicWhimsy, Kangofu-CB, Amberlyinviolet and Maevemauvaise for being who you are.

 

A/N4: Inspired by ‘100 Letters’ from the hopeless fountain kingdom album. Lyrics at the end of the fic.

 

Warnings: angst, violence, dark dark things

 

_ Too Late _

  
  


He did, apparently, have a line that he was unwilling to cross in the name of victory. 

It had surprised him - had surprised his  _ lover _ even more.

Treize had never really been a child; his toys had been chessboards and shooting ranges, his playmates military adjutants, his playground the cutthroat court of Romefeller.

As such, he had never really believed that the ends justified the means. He had had it quite literally beaten into him that victory required no justifications.

And victory meant answering to no one, it meant escape and freedom and all of the concepts that Treize had struggled to grasp as a boy and even now, as a man, still felt were akin to love and trust.

Dermail had never been gentle. Had, in fact, made a point of using pain to control Treize.

While Treize would never be comfortable with pain, while the threat of torture still made him flinch, he was at least familiar with it. He had learned to bend rather than break. And he had promised himself that no one, least of all Dermail Catalonia, would break  _ him _ .

But the night that Dermail brought in a female cadet, her face pale and her uniform in disarray, and shoved her to the floor at Treize’s feet, Treize found that even he had a limit.

There were things he would not,  _ could _ not, do.

Dermail called him weak, snarled as he jerked the girl’s head back and her glasses fell to the floor.

She didn’t cry, didn’t make a  _ sound _ . Her green eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she stared up at the gilded ceiling while Dermail jerked his belt free.

He could have stood by, could have watched Dermail indulge in yet another of his perversions, and all the while plot how best to exploit him in the future.

But Treize found himself unable to remain still, found the pounding of his heart and the slick of bile in his throat too powerful.

He caught Dermail’s wrist as the man raised his arm to land the first blow and coldly informed the cadet that her presence was no longer required.

Dermail struggled, glared at Treize, and threatened him with all manner of punishment.

The girl rose on shaky feet, stumbled towards the door, and then fled.

Treize shoved Dermail back onto the bed and didn’t bother to collect the rest of his clothes.

He walked out of the ornate bedchamber in just his white breeches and boots, and he never looked back.

The girl was waiting for him, eyes still glittering and her breathing shallow. 

She flinched when he reached out to set her uniform jacket to rights, fastening the buttons and tweaking the bar bearing her name.

_ Une. _

  
  


\----------------

 

Lyrics:

 

Lyrics   
How can Midas put his hands on me again?   
He said "one day I'd realize why I don't have any friends"   
I find myself alone at night   
Unless I'm havin' sex   
But he can make me golden if I just showed some respect   
  
But I don't let him touch me anymore   
I said "I'm not something to butter up   
And taste when you get bored   
'Cause I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors   
To find some peace and quiet right behind a wooden door"   
  
He said "please don't go away"   
He said "please don't go away"   
I said "it's too late"   
I said "it's too late"   
He said "please don't go away"   
He said "please don't go away"   
I said "it's too late"   
I said "it's too late"   
  
And now I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking   
That I almost gave you everything   
And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing   
That I never gave you anything   
  
You wrote 100 letters just for me   
And I find them in my closet in the pockets of my jeans   
Now I'm constantly reminded of the time I was 19   
Every single one's forgotten in a laundromat machine   
  
But I don't let him touch me anymore   
I said "I'm not something to butter up   
And taste when you get bored   
'Cause I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors   
To find some peace and quiet right behind a wooden door"   
  
He said "please don't go away"   
He said "please don't go away"   
I said "it's too late"   
I said "it's too late"   
He said "please don't go away"   
He said "please don't go away"   
I said "it's too late"   
I said "it's too late"   
  
And now I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking   
That I almost gave you everything   
And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing   
That I never gave you anything   
And then I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking   
That I almost gave you everything (I said it's too late)   
And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing   
That I never gave you anything   
  
He said "please don't go away"   
He said "please don't go away"   
I said "it's too late"   
I said "it's too late"   
He said "please don't go away"   
He said "please don't go away"   
I said "it's too late"   
I said "it's too late"   
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

A/N: For the Halsey Drabble/Snippet Challenge on Tumblr, this is day 4 of hopefully 4 of fics that are inspired by Halsey songs.

 

A/N2: Always thanks to Ro for beta-reading and supporting me.

 

A/N3: And a super thanks to ChronicWhimsy, Kangofu-CB, Amberlyinviolet and Maevemauvaise for being who you are.

 

A/N4: Inspired by ‘Devil in Me’ from the hopeless fountain kingdom album. Lyrics at the end of the fic.

 

A/N5: the greatest 3xD of all time, and one of my fav fics of all time, is Fading Stars by en passant (Corinthian) on AO3. I am unashamedly inspired by that fic when exploring the dynamics of Dorothy and Trowa

 

Warnings: angst, violence, 3xD, D/s, BDSM, blood play

 

_ Come Back to Life _

 

Treize had had a marble _kouros_ that he claimed was nearly four thousand years old. It had been as tall as Treize himself, taller on the ornate plinth. Treize used to scatter roses at his feet, careful to keep them from touching the actual statue lest the rose petals negatively interact with the marble.

 

The form had been exquisite, geometrically and aesthetically precise. Dorothy had studied the  _ kouros _ from every angle, amazed at how warm and alive it felt for all that it represented the impossible.

 

Perfection was unachievable. But it was painful for Dorothy to settle for less.

 

She was used to disappointment, had experienced it countless times, dating back to her earliest memories. She didn’t consider herself hopeful, but neither would she give in to bitterness. It wasn’t until she met Trowa Barton, however, that the impossible seemed suddenly possible.

 

His skin wasn’t the flawless, cool perfection of marble. But then, perhaps that was better. 

 

He was nearly the same height as the  _ kouros,  _ his shoulders and hips almost as perfectly proportioned as the ancient statue’s had been.

 

But there were scars. Tattoos. Tan lines. 

 

The  _ kouros _ had existed solely to be admired, had served no other function than to please. Well, perhaps the sculptor had aimed for more than pleasure - perhaps he had had Pygmalion fantasies for his masterpiece.

 

Dorothy was quite the opposite. She wanted to take Trowa Barton, perfect specimen of martial ability, physical and mental agility, and freeze him in time. Or at least reduce him to an object created solely for her pleasure.

 

She had expected some measure of resistance, and she hadn’t been disappointed. Sex was the only thing he seemed prepared to give with ease - that was pleasure, was bargaining that he understood and excelled in.

 

It was the rest of it where he struggled. And that too pleased her.

 

He had trusted before, had loved before, and had lost.

 

She was determined to make him lose again, and to make him  _ want _ to lose.

 

Trowa would stand for hours, would gasp in pleasure as the thorned roses pricked his skin and she decorated his perfect body with red veins, drawing life to the surface of her very own  _ kouros _ .

 

It was the after, as she sponged the blood from his body and traced the thin cuts that were too shallow to scar, that his eyes grew shuttered and his mouth taut.

 

Pain, he could manage. Pleasure, he could dispense. But worship…

 

It made him as uneasy as if she had presented him with a mobile suit and told him to pilot it again.

 

He was never closer to a statue as in those moments, so still that she struggled to see him breathe. 

 

It was only in those moments that he broke, that the careful alliance they had forged risked crumbling in the face of his fear.

 

_ Coward _ , she had called him.

 

He hadn’t had a response. He didn’t fight back, ever. 

 

He would duck his head, would hide his face behind the hair that looked eternally stained by blood, and he would struggle to find enough equilibrium to allow her to continue.

 

One day, Dorothy knew, she would break him entirely. Would shatter him as she had destroyed the  _ kouros _ that Treize prized.

 

It had been her first act, after his death, to place her hands on that lifeless body and push. The head of the  _ kouros _ had split, one cheek and eye intact save for a fissure that ran from the eye towards the missing nose. An unseen tear.

 

She wondered if she would be able to make Trowa cry.

  
  


\-----

Lyrics:

 

You said I   
Would've hit the ceiling   
You said I   
You said I   
Should eat my feelings   
Head held high   
  
I won't take anyone down if I crawl tonight   
But I still let everyone down when I change in size   
And I went tumbling down trying to reach your high   
But I scream too loud if I speak my mind   
  
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
The devil in me   
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
The devil in me   
  
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, come back to life   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, come back to life   
  
You said I'm   
Too much to handle   
You said I   
Shine too bright   
I burnt the candle   
Flew too high   
  
I won't take anyone down if I crawl tonight   
But I still let everyone down when I change in size   
And I went tumbling down trying to reach your high   
But I scream too loud when I speak my mind   
  
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
The devil in me   
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
I don't wanna wake it up   
The devil in me   
  
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, come back to life   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, come back to life   
  
Now I gotta wake it up   
Now I gotta wake it up   
Now I gotta wake it up   
The devil in me   
Now I gotta wake it up   
Now I gotta wake it up   
Now I gotta wake it up   
The devil in me   
  
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, come back to life   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, gotta wake up   
Gotta wake up, come back to life


End file.
